


Trading Cards

by Zedoktor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedoktor/pseuds/Zedoktor
Summary: Spy wants a blowjob, and Scout wants a rare baseball card. Hijinks ensue.





	Trading Cards

When Spy showed him the tiny, flimsy square of white card, Scout just scoffed and dismissed it immediately out of hand. “There is no way that’s real, man. There’s no way someone like you could get their hands on something like that.”

Spy was undeterred. “How little faith you have in me. I should be insulted by that. I, the same man who acquired ten bottles of Texan beer for Engineer in the middle of this snowy wasteland? Who procured a fresh turkey last Christmas with only a day’s notice? Do you really believe that one small card is somehow beyond my considerable abilities?”

“That is not one small card, ya dumb frog. That’s a _signed_ Bowman Ted Williams. I’ve been collecting for fucking years and I’ve never even seen one before.”

Spy held the little baseball card delicately. It was covered in a thin plastic wrap, the same one that had protected it on its trip from Boston to Coldfront, here in the depths of Alaska. The colors were still vibrant, despite its age. He slid it across the table to Scout, one eyebrow raised.

“You do not trust me. I expected this, of course. Examine it if you will, but do not take it out of the wrap. It is delicate, and valuable.”

He looked at it dubiously, but picked it up and turned it over a few times. When he pulled off the tape and opened the plastic, Spy hissed and grabbed his hands. “Do you not listen to anything I say? Stop that!”

Scout pushed him off. “I’m not taking it out, I just want to check something,” he said contemptuously. With the plastic carefully pulled apart, he sniffed at the top of the packet. His expression became somewhat thoughtful. “Bubblegum,” he murmured. “Alright. Where’d you get it and what do you want for it?”

Spy grinned at him. “I have a contact in Boston who owed me a favor. He offered this to me, and so I am offering it to you – if, of course, you agree to the trade.” He plucked it out of Scout’s fingers, and tucked it into his jacket. “All you have to do is perform a certain task for me.”

Scout leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and watched him warily. “I’m listening.”

“It is nothing, really. A trifle that will only take up a few hours at most.” Spy’s grin got even bigger. “Since coming to this godforsaken place, I have missed some of the… pleasures… of civilization. If you would be willing to help me in this respect for one night, the card is yours, no strings attached.”

Scout stared at him, without blinking or responding, for a full ten seconds before his chair overbalanced and he collapsed to the floor. He was on his feet in a heartbeat. “You mean you want -”

“Yes,” Spy said, looking up and down the skinny runner’s body and licking his lips suggestively. “But, in deference to your American sensibilities, no matter how misguided they are, I will be happy with merely a blowjob.”

“There is NO WAY I’m sucking you off for one fucking card, man! NO WAY!” Scout shouted. “I’m not a faggot! And it’s probably not even real!”

There was a slightly manic edge to his voice. Spy stood up and smoothed down his suit. “The choice is yours. I ask for so little in exchange – a service, of course, which does not reflect on your own preferences. And no one needs to know, assuming that they did not just hear you shouting about it.”

They both looked around in silence for a moment. The canteen was quiet at this time on a Saturday. The rest of the team were busy with their own pursuits.

“Well then,” Spy finally said, taking in Scout’s still disgusted expression, “if you should choose to avail of this offer, I will be in my room every night at precisely eight o’ clock. Oh, and do not bother attempting to steal it. If you do, your entire collection will find its way into the washing machine.” He nodded amiably at him, and walked out.

Spy expected Scout to last a week at the most. He dropped little hints into the conversation at dinner; talk of rarity, missed opportunities, and valuable possessions became rather more prevalent. It was all according to plan, and the others didn’t notice a thing. Scout, however, got increasingly agitated.

On the evening of the fourth day after he had made his offer, there was a knock on his door at a quarter past eight. Spy smiled to himself, and put away the book he had been reading. The bed was made, and the lights were turned down. This could be a rather interesting evening.

He opened the door with a flourish, and found Scout standing outside and looking mutinous. He stormed in and slammed it behind him.

“Alright, listen up, frog – I am just doing this for the card, you got that? You might be into fucking other men but I am absolutely not. Just one blowjob, and if you try anything else, I’ll bust your head in!” He poked Spy in the chest, driving him back a few steps as he ranted. The Frenchman was neither intimidated nor impressed.

“A deal is a deal, as you say.” he replied, knocking the offending hand away. “I am a man of my word. I will not ask for or expect anything more.” Spy sat on the bed, and undid his belt. “So,” he said, “On your knees, I think, will be the most comfortable arrangement. In front of me, here, s'il vous plait.”

“Yeah? Comfortable for who, faggot?”

“For me, of course. Who else?” He slid forward, making space for Scout to kneel down and unzipping his fly. “Well?” He gestured to his crotch.

Scout stood, clenching and unclenching his fists, apparently debating the sanity of what he was about to do. Spy sighed, drew the card from his jacket, and placed it on the bedside locker. “There. It is yours to take as soon as we are done. Do you trust me now?”

“Hell no,” he snapped. He still knelt down, and watched with profound disgust as Spy pulled out his penis and stroked it up to something resembling attention. At least he was clean, and not so large that Scout would be in danger of choking outright.

Still, Scout had to visibly steel himself before taking hold of the other man’s dick, leaning forward, and roughly shoving it into his mouth. Spy winced, gave a small, choked gasp, and shoved him back so hard that he sprawled on the floor.

“DO NOT USE YOUR TEETH, YOU IDIOT! Mon dieu, have you never even experienced a blowjob before?! Are you so abusive with your own body?” Spy clapped a hand over his sore genitalia as Scout got up again and glared at him.

“I ain’t a faggot like you, so no, I’ve never done this before. And I’ve had plenty of blowjobs from girls back home! With a body like this, I got girls all over -”

“No, you do not,” Spy said testily. “Lie to yourself if you must, but do not lie to me. I do not have the patience for it.” He pointed at the space in front of him again. “If I must teach you, I will. Keep your teeth out of the way and use your tongue.”

Scout made another attempt, and Spy still winced now and then as sharp edge of his incisors grazed the sensitive shaft. It was far from the best he had ever received, but it was somewhat pleasurable, and he began to relax.

It only took a few minutes for Scout to suddenly gurgle and pull off again, wiping his mouth and looking utterly nauseated. “That tastes fucking horrible, man!”

“Then get used to it – the card is not yours until I am done,” Spy snapped. He pulled the other’s head back to his crotch, where Scout slapped his hand away with a curse and got back to work. The pleasurable sensations returned, and he began to drift a little, thinking of better times and more agreeable companions.

The surge of the release was instinctive, and he groaned and grabbed at Scout’s head to hold him in place despite his attempts to get away. This proved to be a terrible idea, as Scout went pale, croaked, and threw up all over him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, one dripping bile and semen from his mouth, and the other staring horrified at the acidic remains of five cans of Bonk that was splattered all over his most sensitive regions. Then Scout leaped to his feet, snatched the card, and sprinted from the room. He tore down the corridor with the Spy’s painful, swear-filled howls echoing after him.

He spent a full hour in the bathroom, brushing his teeth repeatedly and gargling with most of a bottle of mouthwash. He was sure he’d never, ever forget the taste. Scout promised himself, over and over, that he would never do anything like that ever again, not even if Spy offered him a week of sex with Ursula Andress.

He was starting another round of brushing when Engineer wandered in. He was wrapped up in a bathrobe, ready for his evening shower, with a towel thrown over his shoulder. He started at the sight of his teammate attempting to squirt an entire tube of toothpaste into his mouth.

“Goddamn, boy, what in hell are you doin’?” he asked in amazement. Scout made some muffled, goopy noises, and eventually spat it all out into the sink.

“You do NOT wanna know, man. If Spy ever offers you something good for a favor, you better say no,” Scout said darkly.

Engineer sighed and leaned against the wall beside him. “Son, last time Spy tried to offer me somethin’ good, it turned out to be part of a broken radio that he was passing off as ‘stolen enemy technology’. Dunno how he thought I’d fall for that, but either way, I’d be mighty suspicious of anythin’ that French prairie dog has for trade.”

Scout stared at him. “You don’t think…”

“What’d he give you?”

He passed the card over without comment, being careful to avoid getting toothpaste on it. Engineer held it up and whistled softly under his breath. “How’d he get a genuine Bowman Ted Williams?”

Scout immediately brightened up. “Aw man, I knew it was real! I tell ya, when I get back home, everyone’ll be drooling over that card -”

“Well hold on there, Trigger, what about the signature?” Engineer squinted at the squiggle of ink. “You sure that’s Williams?”

“Hell yeah. You think I’d make a mistake like that? One of my brothers got his autograph once.”

Engineer rubbed his chin. “Weeeell, I’ve seen a few signed cards in my time, an’ they’re always signed with a black fountain pen. 'Cause it’s nice and smooth, right? This was signed with a dark blue ballpoint pen. You know, the ones we got lyin’ around everywhere here.”

Scout’s face fell faster than an avalanche in the Alps. “SONUVABITCH!”


End file.
